Rue and The Hunger Games
by makesuretheyrememberyou
Summary: What happened to the twelve-year-old female tribute from District 11 at the reaping? The Training Center? The Hunger Games? Experience the dangers and difficulties of the 74th annual Hunger Games, in Rue's perspective.
1. The Reaping

It is me. My name has been reaped from the big glass bowl, with pieces of paper of the names of everyone between the ages of twelve and eighteen from District 11. Of course my name has been reaped. I am twelve years old, my first time in the reaping. From behind me, a Peacekeeper grabs my arm with a gesture so violent I almost fall to the ground. He slowly leads me to the stage, where a blue-haired man from the Capitol stands, blinding everyone with his cloud white teeth. He takes my arm, and raises it to the crowd. No one claps. Everybody has a serious, but vacant expression on their faces. _Probably because I am very young, _I sympathize to myself. Everything, or everyone, is dead silent.

Without hesitation, the Capitol freak digs his hand into the bowl with the male names in it. With expression, and clearly enthusiasm, he reads a name called "Thresh". I try to spot the boy, and I am truly astonished. A big, tall boy, about six feet tall. His skin colour is like dark chocolate. He has dark circles under his eyes. Probably works hours and hours in the fields, given the fact that District 11 is in charge of agriculture. In the Capitol's eyes, our district is in charge of food. As two Peacekeepers reel him to the stage, I can't help but stifle a giggle. They are like cockroaches, compared to him.

"Ladies and gentleman, I give you the District 11 tributes of the 74th annual Hunger Games, Rue and Thresh!" says the Capitol man. Still, nobody claps. Thresh and I slowly exchange a glance, and shake hands. His hands are incredibly sweaty, like he knew this was going to happen. That tells me one thing: I am in for a bloodbath.


	2. Goodbyes

I am taken almost immediately by a Peacekeeper into the Justice Building. From what I've heard in the fields, there is one in every district, a sort of headquarters for the Capitol. I find myself being pushed into a large room, where two red couches are residing.

_This must be where goodbyes take place, _I think to myself. I only have three people to say goodbye to: my father and two sisters, who are too young and too old to be entered in the reaping. My thoughts are interrupted when the huge wooden door swings open, revealing my family members.

"You've got three minutes." the Peacekeeper says, his voice chilling me to the bone. I had no idea what to say. My sisters practically tackled me to the ground, their grip on me draining the circulation out of my chest. My father then joins in, and for the next few minutes we sit, huddled in an unbreakable hug. Three minutes of crucial silence breaks when the Peacekeeper returns to collect my family. I start to regret not speaking, because there is a good possibility that I will never see them again.


	3. The Train

Thresh and I are escorted out of the Justice Building, and onto a chariot-like vehicle. The Capitol freak who reaped our names goes on and on about what we will experience on this "special" event. All the while, I could not care less. What is so special about 24 people fighting to the death on live TV? Maybe if tributes were over 20 years old and a lot of experience, fine. But twelve to eighteen years old? No, not at all okay. After 20 minutes of hearing what we will be doing in the Capitol, we reach a train station. There is a long, silver, train awaiting us to travel to the Capitol. We are pushed abruptly by two Peacekeepers onto this shiny contraption. We step inside, and two doors move aside as it senses our presence. The smell of honey fills the air, enveloping my mouth. As Thresh and I are walking through another set of automatic doors, I finally pay attention to what is in front of me. Clearly, I am wonder struck...


	4. Journey to the Capitol

Food. Food. Food. That is the only word that comes to mind when I see what is in front of me. Tables of food, delicious deserts, and refreshing drinks are awaiting Thresh and I. Never have I been so happy to see food. Back in District 11, we only had one meal a day. We were not allowed to pick and food from the fields, or else you would be killed faster than you could say "I was hungry". Everything is so elegant. What seems like thousands of tables are lined with red tablecloths, topped with a white lace design. I run my fingers on the table. _Mahogany, _I think to myself. I know this because there are hundreds of trees made of this wood back in the fields of District 11. You have to catch on to all different kinds of trees. I was particularly talented at it. I stopped thinking of trees and started right on the food. I ate as quickly as I could, to fill the huge gap in my stomach. Thresh barely touched anything. He does look like he eats a lot, but no eats much back in 11. It's probably just muscle. I'm about to take another bite, but I stop myself. Something inside me says I can't take much more food. After all, I've eaten three of everything, give or take. I then noticed that Thresh wasn't sitting with me at the table anymore. Where could he have gone? He can't have gone in his chamber, it's far too early to sleep. He must have snuck out while I was lost in thought. That's a bad habit of mine. In the arena, I have to ensure that that doesn't happen. Or else someone could sneak up and kill me without realizing it. My thoughts are interrupted when a sliding door opens, revealing the lost Thresh. He started to speak, but he was mumbling, so I couldn't understand him. That was the first time I had ever heard him speak.

"Rue," he says, barely audible. He starts to talk, and I did not like the sound of what I was hearing. District 11 has no victors. Which means Thresh and I have no mentor...


	5. No Chance at Winning

_Oh. No. _I think to myself. Oh, who am I kidding? It won't matter. If District 11 has never had any victors, then Thresh and I stand no chance of winning. One of us would probably die in the first five minutes. Not to say that I won't try to win, but there's only a slight possibility. After receiving the news, my hunger has totally disappeared. I honestly don't know what to think, or do, so I just head into my chamber. The sliding door opens and I am wonderstruck. There is a 30" flat screen T.V., a full queen bed, and a huge closet, filled with clothes that are somehow already custom fitted just for me. Nothing of the sort you would find in District 11. I help myself to sitting down on the bed. It is so much softer than the one back home. Back in 11, our beds are made out of a wood board – and only one blanket covers it, so it's safe for me to say I like this bed better. On the bedside table, I find the remote for the T.V. I click it on. I see two familiar faces, Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith. I remember them from previous years. They are responsible for making the Hunger Games a "happy and delightful" occasion. They do fulfill their purpose; for the Capitol. You could offer me all of the food and riches in all of Panem, and I still wouldn't consider the Hunger Games a good thing. From what I see, they are doing a recap from one of the Hunger Games years ago. Two male tributes are in what looks like a ruined city, but that's just the theme. It's really the arena. I see the larger tribute beating a brick continually against the other tribute's forehead. Soon after, the tribute was declared dead.

"Now see that? That is the moment that you never forget. The moment when a tribute becomes a victor." booms the voice of Caesar Flickerman. Well, THAT really helped. If they show recaps from previous years, they should show a clever strategy to win, not death. I snap myself out of my thoughts. Complaining won't do me any good. I glance around the room trying to find a clock. Then I look at the remote, still clutched in my hand. At the bottom, there is a tiny digital clock. _7:18 pm, _it reads. Since my hunger disappeared, I see no reason to go back to the main room to eat dinner, so I decide I could use some rest. After all, how else can I expect to win?


End file.
